


Minute and Hours

by elrhiarhodan



Series: Paladin 'Verse [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, F/M, Grief, paladin 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:11:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/pseuds/elrhiarhodan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what they remember in the minutes and hours afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Minute and Hours

The heat of the fireball. The sight of the small plane disintegrating. The stink of burning jet fuel, metal, plastic, flesh. _Kate_. The iron bands of Peter’s arms keeping him from running into the fire. Maybe the sound of sirens, but that could have been his imagination or the ringing in his ears. The shockwave from the blast damages him - a concussion, his eardrums, broken ribs.

He remembers Peter dragging and carrying him to his car, and he remembers Peter laying him on the back seat, gently manipulating his body so he could fasten a seatbelt around him - to keep him from falling. Neal remembers Peter’s shaking hands stroking his forehead, wiping the soot and tears from his face. He remembers seeing Peter’s lips move, but he can’t hear anything over the roaring in his brain, the thudding of his heart. _She’s dead - she’s dead._

Then, nothing. Mercifully _nothing_.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Peter remembers everything in the moments before and hours after the jet exploded.

Watching Neal walk away, then turn back. Saying his name like a prayer, like a curse. Then the jet exploding, the heat and roar of the fireball, the stench of burning jet fuel and metal and plastic and human flesh. Neal’s screams, the agonized twisting and pulling of his body as he held him back. The sirens of fire trucks and police cars, the explosion ringing in his ears, the pounding of his heart.

Peter remembers the acid taste of fear in the back of his throat - _Neal should be dead, he should be dead. Keep him safe, get out of here NOW._ He remembers the adrenaline fueled strength of pulling, then carrying Neal back to his car. At some point Neal stops fighting and becomes deadweight in his arms. Peter remembers laying Neal’s limp, unresisting body across the back seat and fastening a seatbelt so Neal wouldn’t roll off and injure himself further. He remembers running back to the tarmac and grabbing Neal’s bag.

Peter remembers getting behind the wheel, pulling out and driving very carefully. He passes emergency vehicles and police cars speeding by. He can’t afford to get stopped. The seconds and minutes move in an agony of slowness as he plans how to keep Neal safe. To keep Elizabeth safe. And Jones and Cruz and Diana. June and Havisham. Everyone he loves, everyone Neal loves, how to keep them all safe.

Peter remembers answering his phone, it’s Diana. He remembers hanging up - the phone, his FBI issued cell - is probably bugged. . He pulls over and uses the untraceable cell Neal gave him to call Diana back and arranges a place to meet. He doesn’t call El - he doesn’t know if their house phone, her cell phone has been bugged. He can’t risk it. He makes another call - to Havisham.

Peter remembers pulling into the parking lot of a diner in Yonkers, near the racetrack, and seeing Diana waiting for him, Havisham standing next to her. He remembers checking on Neal, who was thankfully, mercifully unconscious.

Then time speeds up, training kicks in. Plans are made, discarded. Peter remembers feeling that something was missing - it’s been so long since he’s had to strategize without Neal to fill in the gaps that it’s like a part of his brain has been removed. The last plan, the one proposed by Havisham - by Moz, Mozzie - is the best and the most dangerous. To hide in plan sight. To take the chance that the people running Mentor won’t be so quick to show their hands. Peter will ride out his suspension; keep Neal under wraps until they both can go back to work. Then they will both have to give the acting jobs of their lives, to pretend that nothing has happened.

And to wait, and plan and be prepared.

Peter remembers taking Neal back to June’s, leaving Diana and Moz to get Elizabeth and the dog. Even with a single point of entry, the little row house in Brooklyn is too vulnerable tonight. June’s mansion on Riverside has security to rival an embassy - a legacy from her late husband. He remembers begging June, and her calm quiet voice assuring him that he will have everything he needs. He then realizes he needs a doctor for Neal - but is afraid to have an official medical record with Neal’s name on it in the hours of the aftermath. June makes a call, and another call. A friend’s daughter is a former Army trauma surgeon, recently decommissioned after a two-year deployment in Iraq and Afghanistan. Peter remembers thinking, after the doctor arrives, that she’s too young, too pretty to have served for so long in the bloody battlefields, and then he sees her eyes. They are flat, old, dead. Like Neal’s eyes, now.

Peter remembers standing, pacing, sitting, waiting on the knife edge of patience - the ringing in his ears receding a bit. He remembers listening to the doctor’s steady voice as she examines Neal, who is sitting passively on a couch in the library, eyes open but unseeing. Listening to June’s voice instructing her staff - Maria the housekeeper, her driver, the cook - about the enhanced security requirements that will now be in place.

Finally, the doctor is done. She tells Peter that Neal’s injuries are relatively minor - a concussion, a few broken ribs, bruises on his knees from hitting the tarmac, no sign of internal bleeding. Neal’s hearing will probably return to normal in a matter of days.  She tells him not to let Neal sleep for the next twelve hours, standard instructions for a concussion, and what to look for in case something was ruptured internally. Peter knows that something has been ruptured - Neal’s heart - but he doesn’t know how he will be able to stop the bleeding.

Peter remembers standing still when the doctor checks him out too. His hearing should be fine in a few hours.

Peter remembers the intense feeling of relief when Diana and Moz show up with Elizabeth and Satchmo. They won’t stay at June’s for too long - any change in the Burke household routine would be too suspicious, but Peter needs to keep them close and he can’t leave Neal just yet.

Peter remembers making one last call, to Hughes. He doubts that the bastards running Mentor would have bugged Reese’s phones, but he doesn’t want to risk it. He asks his old friend to meet him for breakfast, to talk about the suspension. They arrange to meet at the coffee stand in Columbus Park, out in the open but out of range of prying ears.

Finally, the adrenaline recedes and Peter remembers the exhaustion. He remembers getting Neal up the three flights to his suite, getting him into bed. He remembers El telling Satchmo to behave, and the big Lab, sensing his family’s distress, ignores the temptation of eating June’s little pug, and makes himself comfortable at the foot of Neal’s bed. Peter remembers Moz taking a blanket, making himself comfortable on the couch, promising to wake Neal every hour. He remembers Diana hugging him and El, saying something about getting herself transferred back to New York, before leaving.

He remembers June showing him and Elizabeth into another guest suite, and El pulling off his clothes, stinking of burning jet fuel, scorched metal, melted plastic, and pushing him into an unfamiliar shower. Peter remembers the sobs that wrack his body and his wife’s comforting arms as she holds him under the hot, clean water.

Peter remembers climbing into an unfamiliar bed and listening to Elizabeth as she gets ready to join him, but not much else after that. Riverside is a genteel, upper class neighborhood, but there is little silence in Manhattan.

Peter lies there, listening for the soft sounds of traffic but all he hears over the ringing in his ears is Neal’s voice saying his name, like a curse, like a prayer.

__

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Hoosierbitch’s incredible piece, [Shelter](http://hoosierbitch.livejournal.com/10814.html).


End file.
